


Curiosity killed the cat (or, it got the Psychic guy a boyfriend)

by Charlie_Bb



Category: Psych
Genre: In which Shawn is terribly nosy, Lassie only wants him to back off, Lassiter has a secret, M/M, Shassie, Shawn hates when he can't crack a mystery, True Love's Kiss, bets are going on around here, gay bars, gay bartenders, the spirits know more than they at first admit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:10:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3616221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_Bb/pseuds/Charlie_Bb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn notices Lassiter is acting weird (yes, more than usual), so he tries to figure out what's wrong. <br/>Lassiter is hiding something and doesn't want him to pry, but there's not much he can do anyway. </p>
<p>This may be the one time Shawn is not able to crack a mystery so quickly. It also involves gay bars and a lot of pheels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiosity killed the cat (or, it got the Psychic guy a boyfriend)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is my first Shassie fic.   
> I have no idea how *this* came to life - I only wanted to write some short one-shot to celebrate the stupidity of Shawn Spencer and the sassiness of Carlton Lassiter.   
> Instead, it all came down to Shawn being unable to mind his own business and Lassie hiding something from him. Bit of fluff, even. Hope you enjoy, and feedback is always welcome!
> 
> xx

 

 

It had been a few days, Shawn noticed, that Lassiter had been acting strangely. Yeah, more than usual.

He couldn’t understand why, really. Everything at the station seemed the same, and he knew for sure Lassie and Jules didn’t have any new case to work on. It had been a week or so since their last one, which he himself solved spectacularly as per usual, and then nothing but good old paperwork for his favourite cops.

But. Lassiter seemed distressed, his mind was elsewhere and he jumped every time the chief called out for him. He even stopped asking McNab to get his coffee, and his mug lay on his desk, sad and lonely and empty.

Shawn didn’t know what to think of it. He knew it had nothing to do with Lassiter’s ex wife – they hadn’t been in touch for a long time now, so unless she had called him recently only to torment him, Shawn felt like he could easily exclude the possibility. He also knew it was none of his business if Lassiter was okay or not, because they were not _technically_ friends, but he was damn curious, and having no case to work on himself made him easily bored.

Shawn also knew that curiosity killed the cat, but he really had nothing better to do than stick his nose in other people’s business. So he walked the corridor that separated him from Lassie’s desk and stopped right in front of him, a grin stretching his lips and his charm ready for him to use.

“Hey, Lassie,” he said cheerfully. “Whassup?”

Lassiter didn’t even look up from the paperwork he was deeply concentrated on, but Shawn could clearly see him rolling his eyes. He chuckled internally, for annoying Lassiter definitely was one of his favourite things to do.

“I’m working, Spencer. Get out.”

“Oh, Lassie, you hurt my feelings.” Shawn moved quickly and ended up sitting on the corner of Lassiter’s desk, hands over his chest. “Can’t I just come over and ask you how are you doing, that’s what friends do.”

Lassiter took a deep breath, but didn’t look away from his work.

“We are not friends, Spencer. I thought that much was clear.”

“You really want to kill me today, don’t you. Oh, my poor, poor heart! Oh, how it hurts! I know your mouth says the words, but your mind isn’t in it, Lassie. And when I’m dead, you will blame yourself and wonder why the hell did you do something like this to a guy you liked alright. The thought will haunt you down until you will be an old wrinkled man, and well, my ghost will haunt you as well. You’re doomed, Lassie. Unless you change the course of destiny, right here, right now.”

“Is there any particular reason you are harassing me today, Spencer?”

Shawn shrugged.

“Is there ever?”

“Out, Spencer.”

“But –“

Lassiter finally looked up, and Shawn noticed a sparkle in his icy blue eyes.

“Out!”

 

*

 

“Gus, I think there’s something wrong with Lassiter.”

“Apart from everything that we already know, you mean?”

Shawn scowled at him from his chair. He rolled onto a more comfortable and less kidney-hurting position and stared at his best friend.

“I’m serious, Gus,” he said. “There is something going on with him, I just don’t know what.”

“Oh, no,” Gus said, raising his hands as to prevent him from adding more. “No, Shawn, I know that look, and I know that tone, and I’m telling you we ain’t gonna mess with Lassiter’s life.”

“I don’t want to mess with his life, I just –“

“No, you just want to pry, and I don’t wanna have any part in it.”

“But, Gus –“

“Goodbye, Shawn.”

When his best friend left the Psych agency with a loud bang from the door, Shawn sighed.

Why wasn’t Gus going to help him? He wasn’t gonna do anything illegal, after all. No, just some good ol’ meddling to figure out what was that made Lassiter act so weirdly these days. It wasn’t the end of the world, and Gus was gonna miss out all the fun.

 

*

 

“Hey, Jules!”

Juliet openly rolled her eyes, not the secretively way Lassiter sometimes did, and Shawn took a mental note: she still had a lot to learn from the head detective. Lassiter sure knew all about how to make you feel uncomfortable with just one simple look.

“What, Shawn?”

“Hey, can’t a friend just come over for a chat?”

Juliet raised an eyebrow, elegantly. Shawn held his pose and his smile in the right place. They stared at each other for a few seconds.

Shawn sighed and stamped his feet loudly, looking like a child to whom someone had just confiscated all the candy bars, which may or may not be an exact replica of what Shawn had done something like twenty years ago when his father had wanted to check all his candies before letting him eat it.

“Okay, look.”

Shawn gently took Juliet’s arm and dragged her to a corner. He looked around, mostly to make sure there weren’t any indiscrete ears spying on their conversation, and then he looked back at her.

“What’s wrong with Lassie?”

Juliet winced, taken aback, but seemed to gain her composure back in less than a second. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a serious, and seriously disturbing, look.

“Nothing’s wrong with Carlton,” she said, and Shawn knew that sounded a little defensive even to her ears. “You leave him alone, Spencer. I’m not asking.”

Shawn stared at her, an incredulous look on his face. She didn’t call him by his last name often, and when she did that usually meant trouble. Also, her body language was giving him a lot to work on already, but he’d hoped she would be a little more cooperative.

“Jules, I’m serious about this,” he said, then added, “I’m sensing something, something about Lassie. I’m not sure what it is, but it doesn’t seem nice.”

“Carlton’s fine. Don’t you dare go talk to him about this.”

With a last fierce glare Juliet turned her back on him and walked away, heels clicking on the station floor.

Now that was something.

Shawn knew Jules enough to notice when she was lying, and right now she so terribly was. She knew something he didn’t, something about Lassiter, and seemed to want to protect the secret no matter what. Maybe it was something too personal for him to know, but Shawn couldn’t even think of it.

Jules knew _exactly_ what was wrong with Lassie, and she wouldn’t tell. Mostly, she wouldn’t tell him, and she knew it was something distressing, which was why she’d asked – no, ordered him not to ask Lassiter.

What the hell was going on?

 

*

 

“Jules knows, Gus.”

“What does she know? She figured out you’re a fraud? Shit, Shawn, I knew it was gonna happen, I knew it, and what should we do now, oh shit, we’re going to jail aren’t we? Is this –“

“Gus, Gus, relax! It’s not that.”

Gus stopped in the middle of his panicking and looked back at him, puzzled.

“Oh. What is it, then?”

“Jules knows what’s wrong with Lassie.”

Gus rolled his eyes to the ceiling, exasperated.

“Shawn, would you just let it go? Please? I bet it’s none of your business, and if Jules knows and won’t tell you that just confirms my suspicions. So just find something else to do and don’t get arrested.”

Shawn looked at him as if he’d grown an extra head. “Gus, c’mon, they’re never gonna arrest me.”

“I bet Lassiter’s only waiting to catch you red-handed.”

“He’s always waiting to catch me red-handed, Gus, what are you talking about.” Shawn closed his eyes for a moment, the ice-cold beer forgotten before him on the table. “Look, I know Lassiter’s going through something. I also know there’s no one who can actually help him, and maybe I could –“

“No, Shawn, you could not. This is Lassiter we’re talking about, why the hell do you care anyway?”

Shawn opened his mouth to let out a sarcastic reply, but that didn’t come. He froze, mouth still open and eyes open wide, but no, nothing would come to his mind, no sharp reply, not even a stupid one.

“I’m going home,” Gus said, waking him from that trance sort of state. “Don’t go after Lassiter, Shawn. And for God’ sake, call me if you just as much as think of doing anything stupid.”

Shawn closed his mouth and nodded, too busy analysing his thoughts to show Gus out. It was practically his home too, anyway.

 

*

 

_This is Lassiter, why the hell do you care anyway?_

Shawn rolled over in bed and pressed the pillow on his face, as if that alone could make Gus’ voice go away.

Of course, it couldn’t.

 

*

 

“Look, I know there’s something wrong, and –“

“Spencer, what the hell –“

Shawn put a hand to cover Lassiter’s mouth as to make him shut up for a moment so that he could continue undisturbed.

“I know there’s something wrong, I can _sense_ it, and seriously, Lassie, that’s what friends are – ouch! You just bit me!”

Shawn pulled his hand back and looked at it, shocked. Lassiter had just bit him for real, and he couldn’t stop thinking about all the microbes flowing onto his hand right now, and the fact that detective I-don’t-want-to-be-touched Lassiter had gave in to the most physical contact with him in years was just driving him crazy.

“Stop harassing me, Spencer, and mind your own fucking business.”

“But Lassie, I –“

Lassiter took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pinching his nose with two fingers. Shawn knew he was counting to ten to make the rage soften a bit before speaking again, and punctual as a clock Lassiter opened his eyes when the ten seconds had passed.

“You’re the psychic, Spencer. You tell me what’s wrong.”

And without another word, Lassiter stormed down the corridor and out of the station, leaving Shawn shocked and with bite marks on his hand.

Okay, he had to do something about that. Oh, and about the bite marks too.

 

*

 

Shawn prided himself with being probably the most intelligent person he’d ever known; he knew his deduction skills were the best gift from his father (or, maybe the only decent one), and even if he hadn’t appreciated it at first, he did now. He had solved case after case working with the SBPD, and he was extremely proud of it. He was on fire, his mind was restless and his life had never been better.

Except, his gift seemed useless when it came down to Lassiter’s secret.

Shawn had spent days in the Psych office, thinking; he’d dodged phone calls from his father, and from Gus, and from Chief Vick too. He had shut the world out and isolated himself from what was still going on outside.

He had thought of pretty much everything, really. One of the best hypothesis concerned Victoria, Lassie’s ex wife, but Shawn couldn’t really explain why the hell she would come back and torment him now, not when she had been the one calling for the separation and all.

Shawn had thought Lassie’s secret could be something else entirely, too, something far scarier than an angry separated wife. What if Lassiter was sick? Like, seriously sick, and he didn’t have long left to live? What if Juliet knew, and she had swore not to tell anyone? In that case, Shawn was sure the chief had to know too, so maybe he could go talk to her? She would probably have him arrested, which was exactly what Gus had asked him not to do, but it was worth a shot.

Shawn hadn’t come back to the Department after that little scene involving him, Lassiter, and a bitten hand. It wasn’t as if his pride had been badly wounded, or at least, it wasn’t _just_ that. He had felt something in Lassiter’s voice, something that had made his guts twist heavily; a hint of harshness that had never been there before, not even all those times when Lassiter had mistreated him or tried to discredit him.

Lassiter, Shawn knew perfectly well, did not believe in his “gift”, he never had. He had tried in any way to prove Shawn was a fraud, he’d tried to talk Vick out of calling him again to work on cases, and yes, maybe sometimes Lassie had been on the verge of truly being mean to him, but.

But truth was, Lassie was all barking and no biting – until today. Now, he bit hard. Now, he was knowingly reversing all his frustration on Shawn, cutting him open with his words and venomous attitude.

Maybe Lassiter only wanted to be left alone, now more than ever. Shawn knew he wasn’t the kind of man who would openly ask for friendship, but he believed he knew the detective well enough as to understand that Lassiter _did_ need friends in his life, _wanted_ them, only, he was too scared to reach out because he thought that would make him look _weak_.

“Shawn!”

Shawn jumped out of his chair and onto the hard floor. He got up again, hands massaging his hurting butt, and shook Gus a murderous look.

“What?”

“You gotta stop this, alright? I’ve had enough. And your father’s had enough, and the Chief too.”

Shawn tzèd him, and moved to the table to make an entire pot of fresh coffee. He needed some, he needed it badly; he needed to stay awake and think the problem through, and maybe, just maybe, he would see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Shawn, I’m serious about this, you can’t just hide in here forever.”

Shawn dutifully carried on with putting fresh-grounded coffee into the filter, then closed the lid and pretended he hadn’t heard a thing – which, he was awesomely good at. He could just shut Gus’ voice out of his mind, as easy as that, and another word from his best friend would’ve made the trick. Another word on how he could not keep on living in the office, that was.

“Shawn –“

“Gus,” he interrupted him without even turning to face him. “You know there’s only one thing in the world I hate more than my father’s shirts, and I don’t care how badly this might look from the outside. I know it’s here, Gus,” Shawn pointed at his head with both hands, expression hardened and frustration written all over his face.

“It’s in here, somewhere,” he talked on. “I just can’t seem to be able to find it.”

“Shawn.” Gus carefully stepped forward, as if he was facing a wild animal and not the best friend he’d known his whole life, hands raised and the voice of an adult trying to talk to a child. “This isn’t a mystery to solve, alright? This is Lassiter, and his private life, which is not yours to meddle with. Just let this one go, man, you know I’m right.”

“The hell you are.”

Shawn forgot the coffee and left the room at a fast and definitely angry pace.

 

*

 

_It’s Lassiter, why the hell do you care anyway?_

Gus knew perfectly that he hated mysteries he couldn’t crack, because he was so good at the damn thing that he could just crack them all open, even the hardest ones, and this was just another puzzle to solve. He was good at that, he knew he could make it.

And that was why he was sitting on his motorcycle in the middle of a crowded parking space right in front of one of the most famous SB gay bars.

Lassiter’s car was parked three or four rows from the spot where he was standing, and Shawn kept an eye on it when he wasn’t paying attention to the bar’s door.

Lassiter had gone in not half an hour before, dressed in (surprisingly nice) civilian clothes and with an air of easiness Shawn had never seen on him before; he had looked relaxed and at ease, with his elegant walk and that hint of a smile on his stupidly good looking face. His eyes had seemed to shine even, but Shawn wasn’t too sure of that.

He’d kept looking for any sign of cops nearby, only to be proved wrong when nothing pointed to a stakeout. Shawn was sure Lassie was going undercover for that one, which was something he would’ve known about if only he had decided to leave the Psych agency and pick up the calls from chief Vick and Jules. Damn, they probably needed him on that case – correction, knowing their line of work, they needed him _badly_.

Shawn was also pretty sure the back-ups had to be somewhere near, maybe not in the parking lot but near anyway. Chief wouldn’t let Lassie go out there all alone, even more so if they were investigating a murder.

He had to go in himself.

 

*

 

The bar was actually a nice place, with soft lights and plenty of room to sit; it was simply decorated, which suggested the owner had taste and was probably gay himself, and even though the music was a little bit too commercial for his taste, the volume was high enough to be heard but not as loud as to stop anyone from making conversation and small talks.

Shawn passed by a couple of handsome men in dark suits who stared at him appreciatively (the blond one was married, and Shawn doubted that removing his ring was actually going to work when it came down to hooking up – only a stupid was gonna fall for his incredibly bright smile and not notice), he walked the main room and almost bumped into a young man in his thirties, causing a bad case of drink-spilling and subsequent cleaning with lots of help from strangers in the bathroom (the older man buying the guy a drink didn’t seem to mind anyway, and Shawn knew that the helping was going to come with the inexistent cleaning anyway. Or maybe some cleaning was going to be needed, yup, that was more likely).

In the distance, sitting on a stool at the counter, he spotted Lassiter. He was wearing a light blue shirt that seemed to make his eyes look brighter (or was it the dim-light? Shawn wasn’t sure), and a pair of jeans that tightened in all the right places; he was lazily drinking a scotch, lips lingering on the glass and white teeth flashing at the gracious (and definitely feminine) bartender right in front of him.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Shawn shoved a guy away so that he could get his stool, which was right next to Lassiter’s, and slightly scowled at the barman. Lassiter turned to look at him, shock visible in his eyes, and Shawn knew he had just one single moment to admire the way light seemed to reflect in them before the rage would come.

“No.”

Lassiter truly looked outraged, the point of his ears going pink and all; his lips were shut in a thin line now, and maybe Shawn missed that little smile from only a couple of seconds before. Maybe.

“Cool, so you can buy me one.”

Without waiting for a reply Shawn signalled the bartender to get his attention and ordered a beer; he waited for the drink, eyes fixed on the wall full of liquor bottles and glasses, spying on Lassiter with the corner of his eye.

“What the hell are you doing here, Spencer?”

“Relax.” Shawn gave him a charming smile and sipped his beer slowly. “I’m here to help.”

“With what, drinking my scotch? I think I can manage.”

Shawn smirked, and winked at him. He leaned in closer, to whisper something in his ear; from an untrained eye, it would’ve looked like he was trying to hit on him, which was exactly what Shawn wanted people to think. He felt his face a little warmer and looked around languidly to cover the suspiciousness of his eyes.

“Undercover, I get it,” he said in a soft voice, lips caressing Lassiter’s earlobe. “Have actually no idea where’s the back-up, but I couldn’t let you come here on your own. Now, pretend you’re hooking me up.”

Lassiter had gone all stiff and rigid as usual, no, that wasn’t gonna work. He needed to relax, Shawn thought, or no one was ever gonna buy it.

“No.”

Shawn rolled his eyes to the ceiling, putting some distance between the two of them just to eliminate it again a fraction of a second later. This time his smile was hungry, and predatory.

“Fine,” he let out in half a whisper, half a moan. “I’ll be the one hooking you up, then. So, what are we working on, here?”

Lassiter took a deep breath and relaxed, or at least he tried. Shawn noticed the tension in his shoulder, and that little twitch at the corner of his thin, lucid lips; he knew Lassie was a pretty good cop, but undercover work just wasn’t his thing.

“Oh, come on, Lassie,” Shawn pleaded when the detective kept to his drink and his stubborn silence. “Are you looking for someone? Did you spot them yet?”

Lassiter didn’t seem to hear him, but Shawn knew him enough to find that hard to believe. The detective drank up his scotch in a generous sip and ordered another just by waving a hand (Shawn noticed the feminine bartender who was wearing eyeliner seemed way too happy to serve him. Poor guy, he had no idea that wasn’t going to work, Lassiter seemed immune to every kind of charm, and Shawn knew. His didn’t work, and that was a first).

“I _was_ looking for someone.”

Shawn turned quickly to look at him, but Lassiter was staring at some point straight ahead.

“And yes, I saw _him_ ,” he added, eyeing Shawn carefully. “This is no place for you, Spencer. Go home.”

Shawn was so busy analysing the strange and unfamiliar tone of his voice to notice Lassiter had abandoned the counter and headed right through the crowd.

 

*

 

What kind of case could the police be working on in a gay bar? Was there a perp somewhere? A murderer, maybe? What the hell had happen that he’d missed?

Shawn shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He’d been so damn busy trying to figure out what was wrong with Lassie that he had left his life go south without even noticing. He had refused any phone calls from the chief, probably missed out a few interesting cases, and, worst of all, he couldn’t even come close to solve the mystery that was Carlton Lassiter.

“I think he’s a bit too mature for you?”

Shawn got his attention back to the counter and fixed his eyes on the bartender. Huh. Too mature his ass, coming from the guy who had been trying to hit on Lassie all the time the detective had been sitting there.

“He’s good enough for me, thanks.”

Shawn held his beer closer and felt a little offended, even if he couldn’t really understand why. Lassie _was_ older than him – not that much, but he was anyway; still, that wasn’t actually something that kept people apart, was it? A lot of couple had overcome age difference and it’d never been a problem, so what the heck that little shit was trying to say?

“The way he reacts suggests otherwise.”

Shawn took a closer look at the guy. Lassiter always reacted that way when he was involved, that was no biggie; of course, that idiotic bartender wouldn’t know, as he had no idea of who Lassiter actually was. He didn’t know shit about him, or about how he liked his partners. The guy was wearing make up; he was perfectly shaved, had a small shave-cut on his right cheek and a few wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that the concealer couldn’t cover up.

“You think he’d be interested in someone like you?” Shawn asked as he lay the empty bottle on the counter and ordered a new one. His head felt dizzy, no doubt thanks to the alcohol, and he knew he couldn’t drive like that. Buggers.

“Sorry man, he’s taken.”

The bartender raised his eyebrows, and Shawn was this close to do the same. What had just happened?

“Really? By whom? You?”

Shawn grabbed his brand new beer and gave the guy a smile that promised nothing good.

“Maybe.”

“It doesn’t really look that way.” Shawn almost laughed at the bartender’s alleged observation skills. “Looks like he was trying to get rid of you instead.”

Shawn laughed, a heart-felt laugh that scratched the back of his throat and came out a little roughly. He gave the guy an amused look and shrugged.

“What can I say, we have our ups and downs.”

The guy didn’t seemed convinced, thanks to Lassiter’s poor interpretation, but really, Shawn didn’t understand what was so funny about the thought of him and Lassie being together. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t make the perfect match, with his striking beauty and Lassie’s grumpiness, and Shawn felt a little bit insulted.

“You still here?”

Shawn smirked when Lassiter took him by the collar of his t-shirt and winked at the bartender in complicity.

“What can I say, I knew you couldn’t stay away from me,” he replied sharply, and Lassiter rolled his eyes (and his cheeks were flushed with alcohol, his lips a little more lucid than before, and Shawn did not think of what those would taste like).

“Come on, Spencer. I’ll drive you home.”

“Isn’t he sweet when he worries?”

Shawn was pleased to notice the look on the bartender face as he waved his hand in a shaky goodbye and let Lassiter drag him out of the bar and into the street. Fresh air invested him and he shivered, Lassiter’s hand still firmly placed on his shoulder; Shawn followed him to the parking lot and didn’t notice Lassiter had put his jacket on him until they were standing beside Lassie’s car.

“Thanks?”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

Shawn didn’t even try to look innocent. He truly had no idea of what Lassie was talking about.

“ _That_.” Lassiter gave him an admonition look. “With the barman. What was it?”

“He didn’t believe we were a couple,” Shawn explained with a yawn, as if it was the simplest thing in the world (and it really was). “Thanks to your bad acting, I might add. Come on, Lassie, you gotta do better than that.”

“Why would he be led to believe we were a couple?”

“Because I told him so,” Shawn shrugged. “Seriously, Lassie, you gotta take some classes. Acting classes. And by the way, you might as well thank me; the guy was so onto you, he was practically drooling all over the place. I saved you from the worst hook-up ever.”

“Get in the car.”

“And there he goes, getting rough and all that.”

Shawn let out a small moan of pure pain when his head hit the car, but got in without complaining. He could see Lassiter wasn’t exactly in a good mood (was he ever?), even if he couldn’t understand why; had he blown his cover? Although that was a possibility, Shawn excluded it immediately. That, the sparkle of rage in Lassie’s eyes, had nothing to do with work and had everything to do with something else entirely.

Only, Shawn had no idea what. He was at a loss.

“Seriously, Lassie-face, that guy –“

“What that guy was, or was not, going to do is none of your business, Spencer.”

Shawn opened his mouth to reply that yes, of course it was, because the guy wanted to fuck Lassie so badly and it was written all over his face, he even had a condom in his jeans pocket, come on – but then again, there was something different with Lassiter now. He looked frustrated, and angry, and… sad.

“Look, Lassiter, I –“

Shawn felt the car come to a swift halt and kept his eyes on the road. He had no idea of what to say, not the slightest, not even if his mind was terribly busy with questions that desperately needed answers. He turned to look at Lassiter, but the detective was obstinately keeping his eyes on the steering wheel and didn’t seem to notice him.

Shawn exhaled loudly and covered his eyes with his hands. Damn, what the hell was going on?

“You’re drunk, Shawn. Go home. Have a good night sleep.”

There it was, that hint of sadness, almost desperation, in Lassiter’s voice. Shawn had never noticed it before, and he was pretty sure that it had never been there.

He wanted to tell Lassiter he was there, if he needed to talk. He wanted to, really, but the words seemed stuck in his throat, and then again, it wasn’t like he and Lassie were really good friends, it wasn’t at all like that. Gus, Shawn knew he could go and tell Gus he was going to be there for him, and he knew Gus knew it anyway, no words needed. With Lassiter was different.

They had a bond, Shawn felt it. Some weird, boundaries-stretching kind of bond made of stupid jokes and cyanide lines, hard looks but no hard feelings; he knew they had something, something that was far from being a real friendship but closer to be something else instead, even if Shawn couldn’t really give it a name.

It was he and Lassie; there was no appropriate name for it, for them.

And Lassie’s eyes were as lucid as his lips, shaded with something dark and heavy that Shawn could feel in his own guts, and Lassiter seemed so distant, so detached, and Shawn had no idea of how to reach out to him, pull him back to the light and away from that darkness that was devouring him.

So he leaned closer, invading Lassiter’s personal space, and Shawn knew he had to turn and face him at some point, he really had to if he wanted to avoid a drunk psychic sniffing him up close.

Of course, Lassiter did exactly what was expected from him, what _Shawn_ expected from him, because that was just what Lassie did all the time, filling the expectations and never failing them.

His eyes were amazingly blue at night, Shawn vaguely registered.

“That’s inappropriate.”

“Didn’t think I said that out loud.”

Shawn felt a lump in his throat and swallowed hard to make it go away. It didn’t, to no one surprise really, and certainly not to his.

“Lassie,” he said in a serious voice. “Talking of inappropriate, I think I might wanna kiss you now.”

Shawn didn’t even wait for him to say something; he gently pressed his lips on Lassiter’s and caressed it with his tongue, slowly. His mouth tasted like scotch, way too alcoholic for Shawn’s tastes, but it somehow felt good.

He opened his eyes, which he didn’t realize he had closed, and breathed a soft sigh on Lassiter’s lips, looking right into his eyes. Emotions were turning in a deep and unreadable vortex in those deep blues, and Shawn took a moment to register it all only to be able to analyse it later.

“Goodnight, Carlton,” he whispered, stealing him a chaste kiss. “Thanks for the ride.”

 

*

 

_It’s Lassiter, why the hell do you care anyway?_

“Because I might be a little in love with him.”

 

*

 

Shawn slammed the police station’s door open and stormed in, walking the corridor and taking a turn left towards the offices he knew so well. Gus followed him, panting, a worried and horrified expression painted all over his face.

“Mr Spencer, what –“

“Shawn?”

Shawn ignored Juliet and chief Vick, walking straight past them and towards Lassiter’s desk. Of course, the detective was there, eyes on some files and a pen in hand – he was filing some reports, no doubt. He had this miserable look on his face and his shirt wasn’t ironed properly, which was a big deal on its own; his hair was a mess and there were dark circles around his eyes.

“Lassie, you look like shit,” Shawn asserted with a determinate nod.

Lassiter looked up from his paperwork, eyes wide open in disbelief and anger.

“And you came all the way here to tell me that?” he let out, voice like a knife. “Thank you, Spencer, I have no idea how I have survived without you.”

“You’re welcome.” Shawn nodded, then shook his head as to shake the usual bickering off his mind. Lassiter had this particular way to get under his skin.

“No, actually, I’ve come to tell you something else.” When Lassiter looked annoyed, Shawn put two fingers to his head and closed his eyes. “The spirits have talked to me, Lassie. They’ve told me why you look like you’re dying. Which is not because you’re actually gonna die, the spirits are very clear about the fact you will live long and prosper, and all that.”

Chief Vick had come over, standing only a few steps behind; Juliet was standing next to her, a puzzled but intrigued look on her delicate face, and Gus looked like he’d rather die that very moment than listen to that pantomime a second more.

“You have been distressed, lately,” Shawn talked on, un-bothered by the spectators of his little freak show. “Head in the clouds, unable to focus properly. The spirits tell me you have been dealing with a conflict, an internal conflict, and they seem to be sure you won’t work it out on your own any time soon. They say you might need a little help.”

“Oh please, Spencer, spare us all the show and go home already.”

Shawn smirked. He could feel the harshness in Lassiter’s voice, but he could also see how an adorable blush was making his cheeks and ears all pink. Bingo.

“Shawn, please –“

“Not now, Gus. The spirits are talking.”

“And what else are they saying?” the chief asked, a sparkle of curiosity in her smile.

“They say…” Shawn closed his eyes and thought for a moment, then opened them again. “Apple! No, dwarves. No, wait, the spirits are saying something about thorns… thorns, anyone?”

He looked around hopefully.

“Thorns?”

Juliet seemed to think about it for a second, then shouted.

“Fairytales! The Sleeping Beauty!”

“Yes, yes, fairytales,” Shawn agreed. They were getting there. “Fairytales, thorns, apples… but what does it mean?!”

“A True Love’s Kiss,” McNab offered. He looked like a puppy who only wanted to please, poor thing. Shawn wrote a mental note on getting him something cool on his birthday.

“Yes!” he almost screamed. “A True Love’s Kiss! Lassie, that’s all you need to go back to your usual barking self.”

Lassiter looked lost for a moment, then Shawn saw realisation slowly kicking in and boom!, there it was, a cold panic washing over him, overwhelming.

“Lassie, you just need a kiss.”

“So, who’s gonna kiss him?” Vick asked, an eyebrow elegantly raised. “O’Hara?”

“Chief, don’t you know the fairytales _at all_?” Shawn asked as if he was talking to a very stubborn child. “It has to be a Prince, that’s obvious.”

“Lassie, no need to run,” he added then, when he caught Lassiter ready to get the hell out of there. Shawn walked to him and trapped him, putting his hands at his side on the desk behind him.

“Now, please don’t make a fuss.”

“Spencer, this is –“

“Inappropriate, yes, we know.”

Shawn kissed him, there and then. He pressed his lips on his, forcing a bit for Lassiter to open his damn mouth, and once his goal was achieved Shawn forced his tongue inside too, giving Lassiter the kiss of his entire life.

By the way Lassie’s knees were slightly shaking, Shawn was pretty sure that was the case.

“McNab, you owe me fifty bucks!”

Shawn cupped Lassiter’s jaw with his hands and waited to be running out of breath before parting from him and his damn hot lips. He then turned to Juliet, who was just getting paid by Buzz and had a triumphant smile on her face.

“You guys had bets going on about me and Lassie-face?” he asked in a hurt voice. “This hurts me so bad, you didn’t even think of counting me in!”

“Spencer, you’re a dead man.” Lassiter grabbed his shirt and pulled him close. “And get that fucking smirk off your stupid face.”

“Make me.”

Shawn didn’t have to ask twice, and Lassiter pulled him in for another (wetter and dirtier) kiss.

 

**The End**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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